


Promise... (Anything For You)

by de_la_rae



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: College AU kinda, M/M, Woosan, angsty fluff, depictions of mental health, jisoo is a mental health therapist, kisses and hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23304853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/de_la_rae/pseuds/de_la_rae
Summary: San and Wooyoung were pretty much inseparable for all of high school. There were sleepovers and stargazing until San found more beauty in his best friend than the stars. When Wooyoung left for college before San did, San began to fall apart. Not only did his life go to shambles without his best friend, but his mental health deteriorated as well. For a while now he's been battling the thoughts in his head that tell him he's not good enough for the world.Is it chance that Wooyoung is working at the cafe San goes to one night? Luck? Fate? Can he help his best friend get out of the dark place in his head? Will they come to realize their true feelings for each other?AKA Wooyoung helps San fight his depression, but it's soft.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44





	Promise... (Anything For You)

**Author's Note:**

> warning: there are depictions of mental health struggles and strong feelings about mental health. i tried to be as accurate as possible, but this is mainly based on my experience with mental health and therapy. though i've never battled depression personally, i tried to represent it as best as i could. if you are struggling with mental health, please see a professional or talk to someone you trust that can help you.

“Wooyoung?”

“Yeah, San?”

“Can you promise me one thing?”

“Of course.”

“We’ll – we’ll always be together, right?”

“Yeah, always.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Yeah, pinky swear.”

“Best friends.”

“Best friends.”

***

San wakes up in an unfamiliar room, crust lining his eyes and his head pounding. He blinks a few times before the ceiling comes into focus. His arm’s bent at a weird angle and after a minute he realizes he’s not wearing a shirt. Come to think of it, he’s not wearing any clothes.

He turns his head to one side and his eyes widen when he sees someone lying next to him, using his arm as a pillow. Panicking, San tugs his arm out from underneath the person, who groans and rolls over on the bed. San’s breath picks up its pace when the comforter gets pulled back and reveals the other person’s bareback.

He’s pretty sure he’s hyperventilating now. He kicks off the comforter and locates his clothes on the floor, shamefully putting them back on. San squeezes his arms in an attempt to comfort himself, though there really is no point in that anymore. He woke up in a strange room with a stranger with no memory of how it happened.

Well, the headache probably has something to do with it.

As San crosses the room, he passes a mirror. He pauses for a second to look at himself. His crimped blond hair is sticking up everywhere, dark circles occupy the space below his eyes and his neck looks like someone punched it. He nearly cries at the sight.

He leaves the stranger’s room and starts down the hall of the dorm to find out where exactly he is. His feet drag on the carpeted floor and he keeps his head down, avoiding eye contact with the students making their way to the bathrooms.

San manages to keep his tears from spilling over until he reaches his dorm, and not until the door of his room is closed behind him does he lean against it and slide to the floor. Curled up in a little ball next to the door, he rests his head on his knees and lets himself cry. He sits there for a good while, grateful that his roommate isn’t here to witness his breakdown.

When the crying subsides into sniffling and the tear streaks dry on his face, San stands up and walks to his bed, pulling out his phone. His lockscreen makes him crack a small smile; it’s of him and Wooyoung, smiling like there’s no tomorrow in front of a sunset at the beach. That was the last day of high school, the last day San saw Wooyoung.

San sighs and flops down onto his pillow, staring at the ceiling. “Where are you now that I need you, Wooyoung?”

***

“Oops, sorry ‘bout that,” Wooyoung says.

The man he’d spilled water on gives him a harsh look, then softens when he sees the anxious look on Wooyoung’s face. “It’s alright,” he says, giving Wooyoung a break. “Just, try to be more careful next time.”

Wooyoung nods. “I will, I promise,” he says, handing the man a stack of napkins from the table next to them. The man takes them with a brief smile and begins cleaning himself up. 

Wooyoung heaves a deep breath and heads back to refill the water pitcher. _Not even a week on the job and you’re already fucking things up, must be a new record for you,_ his subconscious says. Wooyoung shakes his head and tries to ignore himself.

He rests his hands on the counter and leans against it, looking out over the café. There’s the girl that has tons of stickers on her laptop and likes iced Americanos, the man Wooyoung spilled water on, who likes black coffee, and the mom with her two kids who come in right when the elementary schools get out to buy her kids a hot chocolate each, one with whipped cream and one without.

Though Wooyoung hasn’t been working here for long, he has an impeccable memory and a thing for observing people. That was one of the things that got him hired after he’d impressed the manager with making a near-perfect latte after watching only once.

“Just don’t freak anyone out with that memory,” the manager had said. “I don’t want to lose customers over you.”

Wooyoung’s eyes flit to the dance studio across the street. From the window, Wooyoung can see a few girls practicing a hip-hop routine. They laugh when one of them messes up the choreography. His fingers tap the counter and his foot itches. Apparently, his body doesn’t know that dance classes are too expensive for his broke ass.

But it’s nice to think about.

He smiles fondly, remembering the time he dragged San to a dance class. It was a contemporary hip-hop class, if he remembers correctly, which he always does. Though San had never danced before in his life, he’d impressed both Wooyoung and the teacher with his emotional movements. There’s a pang in Wooyoung’s chest when he realizes it’s been almost two years since he’s seen San. He doesn’t even know what San’s majoring in. If San had ever told him, he’d remember.

The bell above the door rings and Wooyoung snaps out of his memory. A blond guy walks through the door, bundled up in a white coat, and walks to a table in the corner of the café. He sits down and sets his phone on the table and rests his head in his hands.

Wooyoung squints at him. The guy looks familiar, but he can’t put his finger on where he’s seen him before. Wooyoung grabs a pad of paper for taking orders and slips out from behind the counter. Normally, he’d wait for the customer to walk up to the counter to take their order, but he gets a feeling this one wouldn’t be leaving his seat anytime soon. Plus, he’s curious, so he walks to the table in the corner.

“Hi, welcome to Tea-Tree,” Wooyoung says, stopping in front of the guy. He doesn’t look up. _Rude,_ Wooyoung thinks. “May I take your order?”

The guy doesn’t look up, just uses a finger to turn on the lockscreen of his phone. Maybe he thinks Wooyoung will leave if he ignores him. Which he won’t.

Wooyoung glances at the guy’s phone and does a double-take. He blinks twice before refocusing his eyes. The lockscreen is a picture of two boys, about high school age, smiling with the sun setting behind them. One of the boys in the photo, there’s no mistaking it, is _him._

There’s only one person the other boy could be. There’s only one person who’d have that as their lockscreen.

“San?”

The guy finally looks up and gasps when he meets Wooyoung’s eyes. His hands go to his mouth and he takes a moment to finally say something. “Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung nods. “Long time no see.” He smiles. His eyes start to water, but he forces them down. No way he’s going to cry in front of his best friend _in public._

_Are we still even friends?_ Wooyoung thinks.

“Your – your voice is different,” San says, taking his hands away from his mouth. He motions to the chair across from him. Wooyoung pulls it out and sits down.

“And your hair is different,” Wooyoung says, nodding at San’s platinum bleached-blond hair. San self-consciously runs a hand through it, tugging his hand through a few knots.

“It’s just – it’s so good to see you,” San says, leaning his elbows on the table.

“Yeah, you too,” Wooyoung says. He runs his eyes over San. His face has changed since high school. He’s no longer as soft, but sharp lines cut across the planes of his face. His lips come to more of a pout, but his eyes look the same. Still full of the tiniest stars.

“So, how’s school? How’s life?” Wooyoung asks. He wants to know everything he’s missed from San’s life.

When Wooyoung speaks, San visibly shrinks. He hangs his head and he sighs. “I guess things could be better,” he confesses, not looking at Wooyoung.

“What do you mean?” Wooyoung asks, reaching a hand out to touch San’s arm. San jerks away from him at the sudden contact. Wooyoung pulls his hand back, surprised. “Are – are you okay?”

San looks up at Wooyoung for a long moment before his lower lip quivers and his eyes brim with tears. He shakes his head slowly. “No, no I’m not,” he chokes out. He grabs Wooyoung’s hands with his own, looking into Wooyoung’s eyes pleadingly. “I need help. Please help me.”

Wooyoung tenses up. San’s frightening him with this talk. He purses his lips and squeezes San’s hands in an attempt to comfort him, and wonders where his carefree, happy virus of a best friend went. _And when he left._

“Wait here. I’m going to tell my manager I’m leaving, then we can talk, okay?” Wooyoung says.

“You – you shouldn’t have to leave work for me,” San says quietly.

“I shouldn’t, but I’m going to anyway,” Wooyoung says with finality and stands up, slowly letting go of San’s hands, afraid San would crumble. _You’re more important than this job._

“Okay,” San says, voice barely above a whisper.

Wooyoung goes behind the counter and into the back room, finding his manager sipping a coffee while reading over a stack of paperwork.

“Um, sir, I need to leave early,” Wooyoung says meekly. His manager looks up, frown evident on his face.

“You’re kidding, right?” he says. When Wooyoung doesn’t say anything, he sighs. “Is it a family emergency?”

Wooyoung tilts his head. “Um, yeah, kinda.”

“Well, I could get in big trouble if I keep you from your ‘kinda’ family emergency, so you can leave,” he says. “But I expect you to work extra tomorrow to make up for this!”

Wooyoung bows and smiles. “Yes, of course. Thank you.” He unties the apron with the café’s logo on it and hangs it up and rushes out from the back to see if San had left.

He hadn’t. He’s sitting in the same spot, looking out the window. San’s face brightens when Wooyoung walks over.

“Let’s go to my dorm,” Wooyoung says, taking San’s hand and helping him stand up. “It’s not too far from here.”

San nods and lets Wooyoung lead him out of the café. They pass by the dance studio on the way to Wooyoung’s dorm.

“Are you still dancing?” San asks, eyes trained on Wooyoung as he longingly watches the class going on inside the studio.

Wooyoung sighs. “I wish,” he says, “but they’re too expensive.”

“Oh,” San says. He squeezes Wooyoung’s hand as an apology. “How’s university treating you?”

“Like I'm a kid on scholarship,” Wooyoung replies bitterly. He looks at San, who looks slightly offended. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like that,” Wooyoung says. “It’s just – it’s been a hard couple of years.”

San nods, and when Wooyoung looks in his eyes, he can see the burden of two years weighing him down. “Yeah, it has.”

***

Wooyoung’s dorm is smaller than San’s, he notices that right away. It looks more lived-in though, with books open on the cramped desk that’s been shoved up next to his bed, which is unmade. It reminds San of Wooyoung’s room back when they were in high school, though that room had considerably more clothes on the floor than this one.

San flops down on Wooyoung’s bed. He shuts his eyes and imagines being home. He imagines dinner with Wooyoung’s parents, all three of his younger siblings and the quiet nights they spent in Wooyoung’s room, talking about what they wanted to be when they grew up and looking out the window to find the constellations in the sky.

San would often look over and watch Wooyoung watch the night sky, finding that his friend’s face was more fascinating to watch than the stars.

“I’ve missed this,” San says, opening one eye. Wooyoung is standing across the room, looking like he’s not sure what to do.

“San, you wanted to talk, right?” Wooyoung says nervously. “You really scared me back there, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

San’s good mood drops when Wooyoung brings up how he acted in the café. “Look, can we just forget about that for a second and go back to normal for a bit?” he says, brushing Wooyoung off.

Wooyoung crosses his arms and frowns. “You want me to just forget that?” he says. “San, you were acting real weird back there. Just going off what you said, I think you’re a bit suicidal.” Something hits San in the chest, and he feels tears welling up in his eyes. Wooyoung walks to sit beside San on the bed. “Are you depressed?”

San takes a strangled breath. The past two years have been difficult, but he wouldn’t say he’s depressed. Then he remembers the two-week period when he didn’t leave the dorm, when he didn’t leave his bed. The only reason he’d eaten or drunken anything was because his roommate got concerned after the second day San went without eating and had taken to feeding San his meals in bed.

He remembers the second time he’d woken up in a stranger’s room with the need to vomit and had barely made it to the toilet before spilling his guts. After washing his face he’d seen a razor near the sink, and for a fraction of a second, he’d thought about what it would be like if he ran the blade down his arm. He’d wondered if that would release any of the pain, any of the thoughts swirling around inside him.

He remembers downing a bottle of alcohol at a party, hoping it was enough to make him blackout and not have to open his eyes again.

San jolts back to reality when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He looks into Wooyoung’s concerned eyes; eyes he wishes he could look into for the rest of his life.

“I – I think so,” San says, blowing out a breath. His back hunches and he holds his head in his hands. Wooyoung wraps his arms around San’s torso and pulls him into a protective hug. San buries his head in Wooyoung’s chest, and his arms go around Wooyoung’s waist.

Before San knows it, he’s crying, tears drenching Wooyoung’s shirt. Wooyoung rubs his back gently. “It’s okay, it’s all gonna be okay,” Wooyoung says, fingers threading through San’s hair. “You’re going to get through this, I promise.”

“You promise?” San says, looking up into Wooyoung’s eyes.

Wooyoung nods. “Yeah, ‘course I promise.”

“Last time you made a promise, I didn’t see you for two years,” San says. Wooyoung looks troubled at this. San doesn’t know if Wooyoung knows how much he’d missed his best friend. He’d often wondered if he’d be like this if he’d had Wooyoung to cheer him up, to bring a smile to his face with his mere presence.

“Well, this time, it’s for real,” Wooyoung says decidedly. “I’m not leaving you to get through this by yourself.”

“I need more proof than just your word,” San says. Wooyoung’s eyes narrow. He searches San’s face like it’s a map and brings one hand up to San’s chin. San’s body goes alert at the touch, then relaxes into it. Wooyoung sees San’s resignation and uses his other hand to pull San’s body closer to his own.

The skin on San’s back ignites where Wooyoung’s hand rests. His heart accelerates in his chest, beating even faster when Wooyoung fixes his gaze on his eyes.

“You want me to prove it to you?” Wooyoung asks. San tilts his head in consideration and nods. Wooyoung smiles and leans forward, connecting his lips with San’s. San’s eyes flutter shut, and he leans into the kiss. It’s softer than he’d imagined it. He’d always imagined this moment as a confession of love and lust. Instead, Wooyoung moves his mouth against San’s own with the carefulness one might use to touch the clouds.

San brings his arms up from Wooyoung’s waist to interlock them behind his neck and uses them to bring Wooyoung closer to him. Wooyoung’s hand cupping San’s chin moves to his jaw, tilting San’s head for a better angle. San falls backward and Wooyoung’s hand on his back goes to the mattress, keeping him from crushing San. Of course, San doesn’t let go of Wooyoung, only brings him closer, inviting him to press his body to San’s.

“Sanie,” Wooyoung whines. His voice is, there’s no other word for it, a keen. “We gotta stop.”

San does a half sit up to meet Wooyoung’s lips again. “No, we don’t,” he says. “Now get back here.”

Wooyoung shakes his head, sitting all the way up and detaching San’s arms from his neck. “No, San, I can’t do this to you,” he says firmly. “Not while your mental state is like this.”

San shuts his eyes and lets his head hit the mattress. “Wooyoung, I’ve waited so long for this,” he says, peeking out from under his hair at Wooyoung. San sees worry and love resonating in Wooyoung’s eyes and realizes that it’s about time he learned how to love himself as much as his best friend does.

San sighs. “I guess I could wait a little longer.”

Wooyoung smiles and crawls off San and pulls him up. He pulls back the covers and San crawls under, nestling himself in the space next to Wooyoung. They share Wooyoung’s pillow as Wooyoung combs through San’s hair with his fingers, planting kisses every so often. Wooyoung cuddles San until he’s sure the other is asleep.

“I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

***

“You sure this is the place?” San asks, looking up at the building. He squeezes Wooyoung’s hand.

Wooyoung checks his phone with the hand not holding San’s. “Yeah, I'm pretty sure,” he says, squinting at Google Maps. “I know I put in the right address.” Wooyoung drags San by the hand to the plaque near the door of the building. He looks for the doctor’s name and checks the floor her office is on.

“Yep, this is the place,” he says. He opens the door of the building and heads to the elevator. “Come on, San, she’s on the third floor.”

“Okay,” San says and presses the button. They’re silent on the elevator ride, the tension in San’s hand saying enough for the both of them.

The elevator dings and the door slides open. Wooyoung takes a few steps out, San following close behind him only because their hands are still locked together. They sit down on the couch in the waiting area. San pulls his hand from Wooyoung’s and plays with his fingers, trying to keep himself from hyperventilating. His chest is doing the thing where it feels like it’s about to explode. Wooyoung picks up a magazine and pretends to read it, leafing through the pages every now and then to keep up the act, but San knows Wooyoung’s just trying to watch him without making it seem like he’s being an overly worried boyfriend.

_Right,_ San thinks. _We’re together. We’re boyfriends now._ His heart does the flutter thing when he thinks about it, when he thinks about the cuddles and movie dates Wooyoung has spoiled him with over the past week leading up to this… appointment? Session? San doesn’t know what to call it, only that he’s glad Wooyoung took it upon himself to find this therapist for him.

A woman who looks quite young for this profession peeks her head around the corner. Her face brightens up when she sees San and she walks around the corner and approaches the two of them.

“Choi San?” she says, looking between Wooyoung and San, not sure which one is actually her client. San raises his hand timidly as he looks at the floor. The therapist smiles, and a weight lifts from San’s chest to see that her smile comes off as completely genuine. “You can come on back,” she says, making like she’s heading back to her office before turning to Wooyoung. “Would you like him to come back with you?” she asks San.

Wooyoung gives San a look, like ‘whatever is going to be best for you.’ San looks away and tells the therapist, “He can come too.” The therapist nods and leads the way to her office.

Wooyoung stands and walks next to San. “Are you sure about this?” he says, nudging San’s arm with his elbow. “I don’t wanna intrude on your session, I feel like it should just be a ‘you and your therapist’ kind of thing.”

San fixes Wooyoung with the most confident gaze he can muster given the current situation. He really didn’t think it’d be this nerve-wracking just being in the building. “You said you weren’t gonna leave me to get through this by myself,” San says. Wooyoung holds his gaze. “And this time, I’m holding you to your word. Plus, I just want you here for the first time. It’ll make it easier for me.” San brushes Wooyoung’s hand with his fingertips as they continue walking. “Besides, I want you to hear this.”

The therapist’s office isn’t anything like San expected; he’d been imagining her sitting behind a desk with a clipboard and a straight-backed chair for him to sit in and be extremely uncomfortable. There’s a small couch lining one of the walls and a cushy chair right across from it with a squat table in between them, a few glasses of water on coasters occupying the table.

“I’m Doctor Kim,” the therapist says, holding out her hand to San. San shakes it before sitting down on the couch, Wooyoung next to him. “But in here, you can just call me Jisoo,” she says, sitting in the chair and giving another genuine smile. San smiles back.

“I’m San, but you already know that,” he says, then gestures to Wooyoung. “This is Wooyoung, my – my boyfriend.” San looks at Jisoo to see how she reacts. San trusted Wooyoung to find him a therapist, but then again, most therapists won’t say outright that they’re homophobic. That would turn quite a few customers – no, _clients_ – away.

Jisoo just smiles and claps her hands together softly. “Aw, I’m happy for you guys,” she says. “I can see why you wanted him to come with you this time, San. Sometimes the first meeting is easier when loved ones or someone you know you can trust is here with you.” San nods and reaches for Wooyoung’s hand. Wooyoung glances over at him, the loving but worried glint in his eye, and squeezes San’s hand. That’s enough of a ‘thank you’ for San.

“So,” Jisoo says, setting a large pad of paper on her lap, pencil in hand. “Is there anything in particular you want to talk about? I’m not big on asking super probing questions right now, I just want to get to know your situation.”

San takes a deep breath. “Well,” he starts. There’s already tension building up in his throat just thinking about what he’s going to say, almost choking him. _I’m gonna fucking cry,_ he thinks before plowing ahead. “I came here, I mean, I’m here because I’m pretty positive I’m depressed.” He stops and takes another deep breath. His mind starts running through all the times in the past two years that he’s felt so far removed from life he’d thought about what it’d be like if he wasn’t even here anymore. “And I’ve had some suicidal thoughts.” Jisoo makes a few notes on her paper. San watches as her pencil dances across the page.

“That must be really rough,” Jisoo says, looking up from her paper and looking right at San. “How long has that been going on?”

San sighs and tries to think back. “The first – the first time I thought about killing myself was – was right after the start of sophomore year of college,” he says. Jisoo makes another note. San feels Wooyoung tense up beside him, but he ignores him. “But I noticed the depressive thoughts around the start of freshman year, right after I moved into the dorms.”

“I see,” Jisoo says. “Was the start of college hard for you? Like, the adjusting to life alone part, or your classes?”

“I think it was a little bit of everything,” San says, considering all the factors. “But the social stuff was hard for me to figure out. I’d had one best friend through all of high school, but we didn’t end up going down the same road, so I never saw him after high school. I kinda felt – how do I say this – like, deserted? No, that’s not quite right.” San furrows his eyebrows and tries to think of the right word. Jisoo doesn’t interject, just waits for San to think of the word, which San appreciates about her.

Wooyoung shuffles a little next to San and San looks at him. Wooyoung’s been quiet, which is kind of abnormal for him, but he’s being respectful to San. But his behavior is so different, demeanor so subdued, that San almost forgot he was there.

“Forgotten,” he says suddenly, surprising Jisoo, who jumps a little in her seat before bringing her pencil down to her paper. “I felt forgotten.” He pauses and sighs again. “I felt forgotten and I wanted to be not forgotten, I wanted to be apart of something. So, I went to parties and got drunk and slept around a little,” San watches Jisoo as he says this. She doesn’t flinch, so maybe she’s judging him inside. _No, dummy, she’s a therapist, her whole job is trying to help people. She wouldn’t do this if she couldn’t stomach some bad shit,_ San’s rational subconscious says. “And when I didn’t belong like I had with my best friend, maybe I lost a part of me.” He stops and holds his head in his hands. His eyes are starting to get wet. “I don’t even know what I'm saying, I don’t think it makes any sense,” he says.

“Don’t be sorry, San,” Jisoo says. “That’s what I'm here for: to help you figure all of this out, okay?” San looks up at her and nods. When he blinks, a tear rolls down his cheek. He wipes it with the back of his hand and sits back up on the couch.

“It sounds to me like your best friend was very important to you,” Jisoo says.

San nods. “He is. It’s me and him against the world.”

Jisoo makes another note on her paper. From his peripheral vision, San can see Wooyoung raising an eyebrow.

“You said, ‘he is,’” Jisoo says, looking up from her paper again. “Have you managed to reconnect with your high school best friend?”

San’s eyes flit to Wooyoung before he can stop himself. “Yeah,” he says.

“Okay,” Jisoo says. She doesn’t prod and ask if it’s Wooyoung, even though San basically confirmed it. San appreciates her even more now, because of that. “Would you say that, if he had been there for you during the time where you were fighting your depression, you might’ve been able to get through it a little easier?”

San tilts his head. “Of course,” Jisoo continues, “if you have clinical depression, which is where your brain can’t produce enough serotonin and therefore your mood wouldn’t be affected by a triggering event, then the support of your best friend might not have done much to help, but – ”

“Yeah, he would’ve helped me,” San says, interrupting Jisoo. He feels Wooyoung’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t look over at him. “Things were always easier when he was around. Even in this last week that I’ve been able to see him, I’ve felt better. Not totally, like, out of the dark place in my mind, but when he’s around, I feel like I’ll be able to get out of there someday.”

“That’s amazing, that’s really good, San,” Jisoo says, smiling. She puts down her pen and really looks at him. “I’m glad you two found each other again.” San’s sure she knows Wooyoung is his high school best friend, but he’s glad she doesn’t press him about it. That would probably put Wooyoung in an uncomfortable situation. San really, _really_ like this therapist.

“I’m glad too,” San says and squeezes Wooyoung’s hand. He gets a little squeeze back and smiles.

Jisoo sets her paper pad and pen on the table beside her chair. “Well,” she says, standing up, “our time’s pretty much up, and I have another client coming in in a few minutes.” San and Wooyoung heave themselves off the couch. “I can’t give you any medication at the moment, but I’ll have you do a questionnaire and we’ll run some tests at your next appointment, maybe a week from today? At the same time?” San nods and Jisoo bends over to jot down his name on the massive calendar spread out over her desk. “Until then, just call the suicide hotline if you have any suicidal thoughts, and they’ll be able to help you. Or you can call me, I’ll email my office line and mobile, in case you need to talk outside my office hours, which I will also email…” she trails off and smiles at San. “Am I rambling?”

San nods and holds up his finger and thumb with a little space between them. “A little bit, yeah,” he says, laughing.

“Ah, well,” Jisoo says and opens the door of her office. “That happens when I get a good feeling about a client, like I know they’re gonna be okay.” She pauses and meets San’s eyes. He nods at her. “I’ll see you in a week, San,” she says as San and Wooyoung walk to the waiting area. “And it was nice meeting you, Wooyoung,” she calls after them. San turns around and waves at her as she smiles and shuts the door.

They’re still holding hands as they walk out of the waiting room and press the button for the elevator. “That went well,” San says while they wait. He looks over at Wooyoung, who’s inspecting his shoes.

“Yeah,” Wooyoung says softly. The elevator dings and the doors open. Wooyoung steps in first and San follows. He presses the button for the ground floor. “You seem to like her.”

“Yeah, I do,” San says gleefully. “She’s really good at therapist-ing.” He cracks a grin at his word joke and peeks over to see if Wooyoung’s smiling. He’ll usually grin even at San’s worst dad jokes and puns. But Wooyoung’s not smiling; his mouth is pulled into a straight line and he’s not even looking at San.

“I’m glad you like her,” Wooyoung says as the doors open, and they walk out of the elevator. San waves at the receptionist at the front of the lobby as they exit the building. A sharp rush of late fall air cuts across San’s skin, and he wishes he brought a scarf or something.

They walk a few blocks in silence before San stops Wooyoung near the plaza. “What,” Wooyoung says as he turns around to face San. His face is illuminated by the streetlights in a way that makes him look ethereal. San would appreciate it more if Wooyoung actually looked him in the eye.

“No, what _you_ ,” San says, poking Wooyoung’s chest with a finger. Wooyoung almost takes a step back. “You won’t look at me. I want you to look at me.” When he avoids San’s eyes, San grabs Wooyoung’s chin and moves his head. “Look at me,” San says, and Wooyoung finally looks at him. “Please.”

Wooyoung sighs and pries San’s finger off his chin, then takes both of San’s hands in his. “I just – it surprised me, some of the things you said in there,” he says truthfully. “I didn’t know you were having such a hard time – if I did, you know I would’ve been there for you like I am now.”

“I know,” San says. “That’s why I wanted you to listen. Because that’s what happened to me when you broke your promise and left me alone. Forgot me. I want to make sure that will never happen again.” He sniffs, his nose runny from the cold, but also probably because he might start crying again.

“Oh, Sanie,” Wooyoung says, cupping San’s face with one hand. San leans into it and nuzzles Wooyoung’s hand with his cheek. “I really promise this time: I’m never, _never_ leaving you again.”

Wooyoung leans in closer and San feels Wooyoung’s plush lips on his own. San closes his eyes and tilts his head, wrapping his arms around Wooyoung’s neck. What started out as a soft seal of love quickly turns into a passionate one, with Wooyoung forcing his tongue into San’s mouth and biting San’s lower lip. San opens his mouth and lets out a soft moan, then opens his eyes as Wooyoung pulls away.

“I can’t leave you, San,” Wooyoung says. San sees the worry in Wooyoung’s eyes has vanished. Now, there’s only love, shining like a starry night in his eyes.

“That’s good,” San whispers, touching their foreheads together. “Because I think if you did, you’d probably break my heart and my brain.”

Wooyoung laughs. “It’s a good thing I love you too much, then,” he says, linking their hands together.

San grins. “Can we head back to your room now? I’m getting cold.”

Wooyoung sighs and starts walking, dragging San with him by his hand. “Of course. Anything for you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Then can I have your scarf?”

Wooyoung laughs and takes off his scarf and starts wrapping it around San’s neck. He pulls San closer by the ends and leaves a soft peck on his lips. “Anything for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope y'all enjoyed that! i had fun writing it, but i also wanted to try writing about a challenging topic.   
> staytinys, i also have a minsung chaptered fic that features members of ateez, so check that out!  
> please stay safe and healthy, that includes mental health!


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